Snails & Crackers
by Ladyhawke 620
Summary: Set after Progeny and Tempting the Fates - Hawke and Caitlin make plans for a simple night out, unfortunately few things are ever simple, especially for them.
1. Chapter 1

Snails & Crackers - dedicated to Sarah, thanks for the title.

* * *

Disclaimer - Set in the timeline originally created by Rachel500, of ten years after Dom's death, this story utilizes characters created and owned by Belasarius and Universal from the original Airwolf tv series . They are not mine, wish they were, sigh. I just like to take them out to play occassionally. Anyway no copyright infringement is intended. The characters of Nicky and Amelia were created by Rachel500, with occassional references to other characters she put into play. The story is mine.

* * *

Sitting at the table, a cup of coffee in his hands, Stringfellow Hawke scowled as he idly rubbed his finger across the rim of his cup. "I just don't know, Cait," he frowned. "Couldn't you just go without me?"

Turning from the sink, Caitlin Hawke glared. "String!" They're your friends as well as mine. Asking you to go to the wedding and the reception isn't asking that much."

Sighing, Hawke took a sip of his coffee. "Yeah, I suppose you're right," he said without much enthusiasm. "I'm happy for them, Cait, I really am, but I just can't get excited about getting dressed up in a monkey suit and making small talk with a couple hundred strangers."

The pretty red-head smiled. No, that wouldn't be his idea of a good time, she thought. She walked across the floor, dropping down into his lap and winding her arms around his neck. Nuzzling his ear, she whispered, "Well, how 'bout I sweeten the pot a little?"

Showing more interest than he had yet, Hawke raised an eyebrow at her. "Oh?"

"Well," she murmured nibbling on his neck, "we could make a night of it. A grown-ups night out if you will. I hear the hotel has some really impressive suites. "We could…um, try them out."

"Hmm-m," Hawke murmured feeling her kiss against his neck.

Cait threaded slender fingers through his short, brown hair. "Well, what do you think?" she asked, her voice husky.

"I think you're trying to seduce me to your way of thinking," he said, sapphire eyes crinkling at her.

Cait pulled back a coy smile playing across her lips. "Well," she asked teasingly, "is it working?"

Hawke slid strong, tanned fingers around the nape of her neck pulling her close. "Yeah," he whispered huskily, his breath warm and coffee-flavored as his lips settled over hers. "It's working."

* * *

"So you know that you've got to be there by 4:30 p.m.," Caitlin ticked off the list on her fingers to the lean, toffee-haired man beside her. "You're bringing the pizza with you and the movie?" she said questioningly.

Roper grinned. "Yeah, Cait. I got it covered."

"You're sure?" she said worriedly. "Hawke and I can always cancel our plans if you're not sure."

Roper rolled his blue eyes laughing. "I'm telling you Cait, I've got it handled, stop worrying. And if there's a problem, I'm sure Nicky, Amelia and I will be able to work it out." Clamping his hands around her upper arms, he started ushering her towards the hanger door of Santini Air.

"You know, maybe this isn't such a good idea…" she began.

The younger man wrapped his arm around her trim waist as he hustled her towards Hawke and the waiting Jet Ranger. "It's a great idea, and you know it. You and Hawke could use some down time with just each other after everything that's happened in the past few weeks."

"But…" Cait began again.

Roper reached around her and opened the cockpit door. "She's all yours," he yelled over the whipping noise of the rotors. "You'd better get her aboard before she makes a break for it."

Cait turned to give him a glare, as Hawke grinned at his oldest son. "I thought I was supposed to be the hard one to talk into going," he teased Caitlin.

Scrambling into the co-pilot seat, she frowned. "Okay, maybe you've got a point," she sighed as Roper slammed the helicopter door and walked away with a wave. "It's just kinda hard to leave the kids after everything that's happened."

Hawke sobered for a moment, reaching across the cockpit to pull Cait to him and kiss her cheek. He held her close to him for a moment and his blue eyes met hers squarely. "I know it's hard. But they'll be fine with Roper. You know that. He won't let anything happen to them."

"You're right," the red-head sighed, "and a night out for just us sounded like such fun, but…"

"Cait," String said, his eyes searching hers. "He'll keep them safe. We could use the time for us, and they need to have normalcy. Us keeping them under lock and key isn't it."

She looked down and nodded. "You're right," she said a bit tremulously.

"Of course I am," he grinned, giving her a squeeze before releasing her and resting his left hand on the collective. "So where to, my lady?" he said trying for his best John Wayne accent and failing badly.

"The ball, kind sir," Cait said, getting into the act and batting her eyelashes demurely.

Hawke chuckled. "Your carriage awaits," he drawled as he eased back on the collective and pushed forward on the cyclic. The Jet Ranger rose gracefully into the air, heading for Eagle Lake and the cabin.

* * *

Fastening the backs on a pair of diamond studs, Caitlin turned from the mirror. "Any chance of you zipping me up?" she asked Hawke, struggling with the zipper of the white sheath she wore.

Hawke glanced up, a scowl marring his handsome face. "Depends on whether I ever get these things fastened," he muttered, struggling with his cufflinks.

Stepping around the end of the bed Cait reached for his wrist. Nimbly, she slid the stubborn cufflink into place before reaching up to straighten his bow tie. Blue-green eyes lifted to meet serious blue ones.

"What?" she asked, smiling a little self-consciously up at him.

Reaching down, he cupped her cheek, rubbing the pad of his thumb across it. "You," he whispered. "Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?"

Cait grinned. "No, but I'll let you tell me," she said, reaching up to press a kiss to his lips.

"Tease," he rasped, turning her in his arms to zip the back of her dress.

"Mmmh," she murmured, "we could always not go."

"Not on your life woman," he growled. "You roped me into this and you're not getting out so easily. Besides," he cocked his head listening, "Roper's here."

Tilting her head, she listened as well, before glancing down at her wrist watch. "It's that late?" she gasped. "We've gotta go Hawke, or we'll be late!" Sliding on her heels, she hopped for the stairs grabbing her evening bag as she went, scooping up her wallet and lipstick and dumping them in, as she went. She left the cell phone on the bed.

Shaking his head, String followed behind. Roper stood in the living room, surrounded by a chattering Amelia and Nicky. "So what'd you bring us?" Amelia exclaimed. "You didn't forget the movies did ya?"

Nicky rolled his eyes. "No dummy, he's got them there in his hand."

Amelia shot him an icy glare.

Laughing, Roper interceded. "Enough guys," he said. "Nobody's going to be watching any movies if you don't let me in."

Argument forgotten, Amelia and Nicky rushed to help him in, grabbing his bag and the movies.

"Oh guys?" he said.

"Yeah?" they questioned in unison.

"I think there's a couple pizzas out in the jet ranger. You might want to get them before your mom and dad leave with the helicopter."

"Pizza?!" Amelia breathed reverently. "You brought us pizza? Whoo-hoo! She yelled as she raced out the door, Nicky on her heels.

Roper watched them go, grinning.

"You're ruining them, you know that don't you?" Hawke remarked dryly, the twinkle in his eyes belying the tone.

"And you're depriving them," Roper retorted grinning, looking up at the man who was his father, on the stairs. "Look at how well I turned out."

"Hmm, yeah," Hawke replied. "Kinda just proves my point doesn't it?" He gave a half-grin as he said it.

Roper rolled his eyes. "I don't know, Cait," he said, addressing the pretty red-head at the foot of the stairs. "How do you put up with him?"

"I don't know," she laughed giving String a look as he came down the stairs. "Somebody has to I guess."

Hawke harrumphed, as he walked past her to greet his son. Slapping him on the back, he stepped away just in time to avoid a collision with Amelia and a pizza box.

"Hey, I got first dibs on the pineapple!" Nicky yelled, hot on her heels.

"You sure you want to do this?" Cait asked smiling.

"Sure," Roper grinned. "We'll be fine. Go on, have a good time."

Splaying his hand across Caitlin's back, String ushered her out the door. "We gotta go, if we're going to get there on time," he reminded her.

"Right," she nodded. Reaching over she hugged Roper goodbye. "Thanks again."

"Not a problem," he said. "Now out with you."

Together Hawke and Cait headed out to the helicopters on the dock.

"So, who's up for pizza?" Roper exclaimed, turning back to the kids.

* * *

Sitting in the ornate, carved pew Caitlin and Hawke watched Lauren and Brian walk down the aisle.

"Isn't she beautiful in white?" Cait whispered.

Hawke cut his eyes at her. "When do you ever see her in anything but?" he asked, referring to Michael's assistant.

"Shh," she hissed, focusing on the scene in front of her.

Hawke subsided shifting away with a shrug.

Lighting the unity candles in front of them, Lauren and Brian knelt for the priest's blessing. Beside him, Cait sniffed softly.

"You're not crying, are you?" String whispered in horror.

"No," she sniffed.

Hawke raised an eyebrow. "You haven't forgotten that Vietnamese proverb about a crying woman, have you?" he said in an undertone.

"What proverb?" she asked quizzically.

"The one about a crying woman bringing seven years bad luck."

Frowning, she elbowed him in the side.

"Ooof," he muttered, rubbing his ribs.

"Serves you right," she grumbled unrepentantly.

Leaning back in his seat, String grinned.


	2. Chapter 2

"Okay guys, time for bed," Roper said dragging a dozing Nicky to his feet. "Come on buddy." Stepping over an empty pizza box on the floor, he lifted a sleeping Amelia in his arms and headed for the stairs.

Trudging up the stairs, Roper tucked the little girl in bed, pulling the down coverlet up under her chin. Fondly, he brushed auburn strands away from her face before turning to check on Nicky.

The boy was already piled up in bed, the covers bunched under his arms. Tired blue eyes blinked owlishly at his half-brother. "You'll stay 'til they come home?" he asked worriedly.

"Yeah, I'll stay," Roper promised.

"Promise?"

"As long as it takes," he avowed tousling the boy's hair. "Now, get to sleep, okay?"

" 'Kay," the boy whispered, his eyes already drifting closed.

Plodding down the stairs, Roper wearily picked up the empty pizza boxes and soda cans. Gathering up the worst of the mess, he went over to the window box and pulled out a throw.

Flopping down on the sofa, he scrubbed his hands across his face. Cait had been right, the kids were a handful, but that was nothing compared to the vulnerability Nicky had exhibited. Maybe things were on the mend, but they sure weren't there yet, he thought.

Running a hand through his hair, he shook his head. With a sigh, he kicked off his shoes and pulled up the throw. The question, he thought, was what to do about it.

* * *

A wolf ran down the ravine, moonlight glimmering through the tree branches overhead. Her breath rasped through her lungs and her flanks heaved with exertion. Her fur was streaked with mud and dampness from the surrounding night.

A branch behind her cracked, and she froze ears poised, nose into the wind. Still as a statue she waited, sniffing, sensing. Another branch crackled closer, and a low growl began in her throat.

She spun sensing abruptly that the predator had become the prey. Crouched, she snarled, the sound low and ugly, menacing. Saliva dripped off her fangs as she bared them and waited. Lunging, she threw herself into the darkness, her growls punctuated by whimpers of pain.

"No! Angelwolf! No!" Nicky woke from a sound sleep, his heart racing and panic pressing at his throat. The room was dark, still, nothing out of place, and yet he couldn't shake the image of the dark wolf in his dreams. She'd seemed so real, and the danger so near, he thought uneasily.

Unclenching his hands from the bedcovers, he wiped sweaty palms on his pajamas. His chest still heaved with exertion and his pupils were wide with fear. "It was just a dream," he whispered. "Just a dream."

In the other bed, Amelia slept on, breathing heavily. Her sleep as undisturbed as his had been disturbed.

He snorted in disgust, nothing ever woke her, they could have a herd of elephants in their room and she'd still sleep on.

So what had woke him, exactly? He wondered. The dream had seemed so real and the wolf almost desperate as if cornered. What the heck was it all about anyway?

Looking around the room, he listened to the ticking of the antique schoolhouse clock in the master bedroom across the hall. Maybe Dad would be willing to make him some hot chocolate if he woke him, and sit with him awhile.

Hopefully, he started to sling the covers off, when he remembered his parents were gone for the evening. Gone to a fancy reception his Mom had insisted would be a lot of fun, and Dad had begrudgingly agreed to…not sounding very excited about the prospects of "snails and crackers" as he put it. Mom had laughed and told him it'd be a grown-ups night out in that funny, husky voice she used sometimes. After that, his Dad had seemed a lot more interested, and had given her that look like he sometimes did when they forgot he and Amelia were in the room.

Annoyed, he flopped back down onto the bed, listening to the clock again. "Snails and crackers, yuck!" he muttered, kicking at the blanket. "Who'd want that , anyway?" Sure didn't sound like much to him.

"I wonder if Roper knows how to make hot chocolate?" he mused. The clock chimed 1a.m. Nicky flopped over, kicking the covers off the bed. Wide awake now, he gave up on sleep.

Swinging his legs out of the bed, he padded through his parents' bedroom and down the wide wood stairs. Trailing a hand along the banister, he eyed the paintings overhead, highlighted in the soft glow of the picture lamps. No wolves, he mused.

Outside a storm raged, thunder echoing off the surrounding mountains. Jagged peaks of lightening lit the downstairs in sharp relief. Roper stirred

On the sofa.

"No wolves," he muttered, wondering where the thought had come from. Lately all he did was dream about wolves. Wolves, and fire and something out to get his Dad. Sometimes when he concentrated real hard he could almost see it, feel it's icy touch as it reached for him, but at the last minute he'd flinch away, afraid to look.

It didn't make sense and he knew it. He couldn't even remember enough of it to talk to his Mom or Marella about it. He just knew he wasn't afraid of the wolf - black fur, snarling fangs and all, but whatever else there was there, scared him to death.

Reaching the downstairs, he crept across the rough floor, the hand-woven Navaho rug nubby under his bare feet. Quietly he pulled open the fridge and drug out the milk. Okay, maybe it wasn't his Dad's hot chocolate, but it was better than nothing, he thought as he rifled in the cabinet for the chocolate syrup.

Pouring a generous dollop into the glass, he took his spoon and his milk and climbed up to the breakfast bar to wait. Idly he stirred it, licking the spoon and frowning. Somehow he didn't think he'd be going back to bed anytime soon.


	3. Chapter 3

"It was a beautiful wedding, wasn't it?" Cait rambled, slipping an arm through Hawke's.

He grunted in ascent.

"Lauren looked so sweet in her dress…"

"Hmm…"

"And Brian looked so lovely in his red hat…"

Startled blue eyes flew to her.

"Sorry," Cait chuckled. "I just wondered if you were listening."

Hawke had the grace to look abashed. "Sorta, guess I wasn't paying as much attention as I should've been. I'll try to do better."

"Don't worry about it," she laughed. "I know I was probably going on. I just can't help it. New marriages always seem so full of promise, of hope."

Hawke experienced a momentary sense of disquiet, unease clenching in his gut. "And old ones?" he asked.

"MM-mm," she murmured. "Harder to say. Some of them yes, others…" she trailed off.

He frowned, not sure he like the direction the conversation was heading. Tugging her arm, he pulled her to a halt in the center of the street. "How about ours?" he asked, dark blue eyes searching hers seriously.

She laughed, pulling away and starting to walk on.

He grabbed her arm and held her where she stood. "You didn't answer me, Cait," he rasped.

She turned in surprise, her blue-green eyes scanning his face and the muscle that ticked in his jaw. "My gosh, you are serious!"

"Yeah," he answered, his eyes never leaving her face. "I am."

She frowned. "I love you, I love the kids. What more is there to say?"

"Are you happy?" he demanded, tension still coiled tightly around his chest.

"Most of the time," she answered, raking her hair out of her face. "Sometimes, the whole Airwolf/espionage thing gets old and I wish life was a little more normal, but then I remember if I didn't have her in my life, then I wouldn't have you. And that makes it all worthwhile." She caressed his rough cheek with her palm. "I wouldn't trade what we've got for anything in the world. Don't ever doubt that, String."

He sighed with relief, somehow able to breathe again, pulling her into his embrace and kissing the top of her head.

"What about you?" she asked.

Hawke rubbed his chin. "You know how I feel, Cait."

"Oh??" she said, unwilling to give him an inch.

He shrugged awkwardly, looking away for a moment.

Despite everything, Cait felt the clutch of disappointment. She knew he loved her, had proven he'd willingly die for her many times over the years, but it still would've been nice to hear. "Never mind," she said patting his arm and pulling him towards the hotel, and the waiting reception.

Knowing he'd muffed it, String sighed. He raked a hand through his hair in frustration at his own lack of words. "Cait," he ground out halting her progress, "I love you."

Turning she smiled back at him. "You know, you're the only person I know who'd scowl when they say that, and I'd believe them beyond any doubt."

He winced. "That bad, huh?"

"Yep," she snickered. "Michael's right - you're the world's worst at flattery."

"Thanks," he muttered wryly.

"No, no, String," she backpedaled. "I didn't mean it that way."

He raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Okay, I've obviously put my foot in it," she sighed. "Forgive me?"

Abruptly, he grinned. "Yeah," he said catching hold of her hand and dragging her against him. For a long moment, he simply stared into her eyes, and then he was finally kissing her.

The taste of him drugged her senses and when it was over, she stepped back a trifle unsteadily. "What was that for?" she whispered dazedly.

"For finally muffing a conversation worse than me," he said cheerfully, wrapping his arm around her waist as they walked.


	4. Chapter 4

The clock chimed 2 a.m. Back in bed, Nicky stared at the dim fire, trying to will himself back to sleep. Strange shapes licked at his vision as his eyes drifted and his fingers fell loose on the edge of the coverlet. Stirring uneasily, he slept.

* * *

Arm draped loosely around Caitlin's waist, String walked beside her enjoying what was left of the evening. The cool wind ruffled her hair, growing long these days, tossing it against his shoulder. "Cold?" he asked.

"No," she said with a grin. "I've got you to keep me warm."

More warmed by her words, than the tux jacket he wore, he pulled her closer to his side. "You were right, you know," he said.

"Oh?" Cait asked puzzled.

"I did have a good time. Well, except for the snails and crackers anyway."

"String!" she admonished, "They spent a fortune on escargot and hors d'oeuvres. Stop calling them snails and crackers!"

He grinned unrepentantly down at her. "Well, they are."

Shaking her head, Cait murmured, " Shame we have that aerial shoot in the morning. It would've been nice to be able to stay."

"To try out the suites?" Hawke asked raising an eyebrow rakishly.

"Um,well... that too," she replied.

"Maybe, we'll just have to do it again sometime soon," he commented as they got to the car, and he reached over to open the door for her.

Sliding in, Caitlin pulled the skirt of her dress out of the door's way as Hawke closed the door. Striding around the hood, he pulled the keys from his tuxedo pocket before getting in. "Ready?" he asked her, as he turned the ignition over.

"Yeah," she whispered. "It was nice, but I guess we'd better go if we're going to beat the storm back to the hanger."

* * *

The wolf loped over the uneven ground her paws scrabbling on the loose rock. Darkness pressed in, heavy and thick. Leaping she crossed the stream, and reached for the top of the gully.

A presence as suffocating as the night suddenly pressed in. Nicky's chest heaved as he struggled for breath. "Angel!" he cried.

The wolf turned, hackles raised. She snarled and lunged, fangs bared. Nicky whimpered, reaching out.

Couldn't see. He felt her fall rather than saw it. Sensed her fury, her desperation. Pain clawed in, tearing away strength. His breath caught in his throat.

Sobbing he awoke. Jackknifing up in bed, he clawed his blankets off, panic thick in his throat.

Steps thudded up the stairs. Roper pounding up them, two at a time, sliding into the room. Gathering the sobbing child in his arms he held him tight, soothing him. "Sh-hh," he whispered. "It's just a dream, Nicky. It can't hurt you."

The boy struggled in his arms, "Angel," he gasped. "Angel needs me, gotta get her now."

"Angel?" Roper asked growing concerned. The boy seemed to be getting more upset by the minute, rather than less. Drawing back, he held the boy away from him, to try to calm him.

Impossibly dilated blue eyes stared back at him unseeingly. "Daddy!" he cried, stiffening in Roper's terrified hands. Tears ran unchecked down his cheeks. "Don't let it take him, Angel!" and with that he slumped bonelessly into Roper's arms.

"What the…?" he demanded, more scared than he'd ever been in his life. This went well beyond any nightmares he'd ever seen. Futilely, he tried to jostle the boy awake.

Not working, he hurriedly rose, grabbing a washrag out of the bathroom. Bathing the boy's face in cool water, he held his breath.

Stirring, Nicky shoved the wet rag away with a flailing hand.

"Come on, buddy," Roper encouraged.

Sapphire blue eyes flew open, clear as day.

"Dad. We've got to save Dad."

"Nicky, it's just a dream," his half-brother began, relief the child was alright rushing through his chest.

The boy leveled a scowl at him. "No," he said with utter certainty. "It's not. And if we don't do something, he'll die and Angel too."

"Angel?" Roper asked in confusion.

Bare feet slung out of the bed, the boy scrambling for his jeans. " 'Melia!" he yelled. "Get up!"

"Mmph-h?" came the muttered reply from the pile of blankets on the other bed.

"Now, 'Melia!" Nicky said, impatiently snatching the blankets off.

"Hey, wait a minute…" Roper began. "Don't wake your sister."

Nicky froze, brown hair touseled and on end, and his blue eyes glaring. "Are you going to help me save my dad or not?" he demanded.

And despite the strangeness of it all, Roper found himself somehow agreeing. "Okay, okay," he muttered, dragging Amelia out of the bed. "Just let me get your sister." The last part was wasted breath as Nicky shoved his feet into tennis shoes and clattered down the stairs.

Cursing, Roper slung the half-asleep girl over his shoulder as he grabbed a couple of jackets and tore off after the boy headed towards the dock and the other Jet Ranger. "Hey, wait Nicky!" he called, as he headed after him, the door slamming behind him.

* * *

Driving the winding road, String squinted into the darkness trying to see between the raindrops. The wind blew buffeting the car, threatening to pull the wheel from his hands should his attention wander. Tension knotted in his shoulders even as he eased into the next curve.

Lightening flashed overhead, abruptly throwing everything into stark relief. And then in the second between the first lightening strike and a second flash, he saw a dark shape hurtle out of the night into the oncoming path of the car.

"Crap!" he cursed, instinctively swerving to avoid it. Cutting the wheels hard to the left the car slid, skidding across, dark, wet pavement.

Cait awoke beside him as the car skidded. "Hawke?" she exclaimed fearfully, as the car slid out of control and he fought the wheel.

"Hang on Cait," he ground out. "Hang on."

Desperately, she grabbed for the dash and hung on. Rear end fishtailing, the tires slid off the road, hitting the rain soft shoulder. The front end followed.

Slinging everything everywhere the car rolled. The crunching sound of metal against rock echoed around them. Caitlin's side slammed into the rocky ground first, the screech of ripping metal brutal on his ears. Hawke's followed as the car continued its roll, the momentum flinging his head into the door frame. Blessed darkness descended.

The car continued its precipitous descent. The wrench of bending metal coming to an abrupt halt as it wedged sideways on a crumbling ledge.

* * *

Amelia safely buckled in the back, Roper clambered up to the pilot's seat to only find Nicky already waiting on him in the co-pilots chair. Still not believing he was doing this, he reached for the headset. "So where to Nicky?" he asked as he slid it on.

The blue gaze he turned on him was unblinking. "To get the Lady."

Roper sucked in a harsh breath. "Whoa, you're kidding right?" having the sick feeling that indeed the boy was not.

"No," Nicky said. "I'm not. We need her."

* * *

Woozily, Cait pressed a hand to her forehead. "What'd happened?" she thought. Mentally she tried to shake the fog that clogged her thoughts.

They'd been at a party. Had gone to the reception, leaving early hoping to beat the storm back to the hanger and the helicopter. The storm…! She startled awake, the events of the crash coming back in bone chilling clarity.

"String?" she whispered. No response. Painfully, she turned stiffly to her left.

Hawke's head rested against the door. He was completely still.

Fear clogged her throat as she struggled with her seat belt to reach him. "Hawke?"

Fumbling, she got the catch loose, her head pounding. Stiffly she slid across the seat, reaching for his neck and a pulse. Trembling fingers found it, even as he drew a shuddering breath.

She heaved a sigh of relief.

Dark blue eyes fluttered open. "Cait?" he whispered hoarsely.

"Right here, baby," she answered shakily. "You okay?"

He licked his lips before answering. "Yeah," he nodded wincing. "Love an aspirin though."

Sympathetically, she smiled. "Me too."

Straightening carefully, Hawke reached for the seat belt. After struggling with it a moment it disengaged, and he rubbed a hand across his chest wincing at the new bruises.

Beside him, Caitlin shifted on the seat. "You sure you're okay?" she asked distractedly as she fought with the passenger door.

"Yeah," he replied absently, distractedly, as he struggled to pull free of the mangled steering column and crumpled dash board pinning him. The harder he pulled, the more tightly wedged his leg became, and the more painful the pressure.

Shoving her shoulder against her door, Cait fought to budge it. Creeching, the hinge grudgingly gave, metal scraping on metal, barely moving. In frustration Caitlin slammed a first up against the armrest. "A little help here, Hawke?" she panted.

Pushing against the steering column, he tried on last time to wrench free. A band tightened around his knee like a vise. Gasping in pain he slid back down. "Don't think so," he whispered.

"Huh?" Caitlin turned puzzled blue-green eyes towards him.

"Can't help you, Cait," String muttered through clenched teeth. "I can't even get my own leg free."

Worry darkened her eyes. "You what?"

"My leg's pinned, Cait. I'm not going anywhere."

Pushing forward on the stick, Roper frowned. Nicky sat beside him, leaning forward as if he could will the helicopter to go faster. He still had no idea how he was supposed to convince Archangel to let him have Airwolf.

"Ask him," Nicky said, out of the clear blue.

"Ask who?" Roper replied confused.

"Michael," the boy answered.

That was just getting creepy, Roper thought. "Yeah, but I haven't even soloed in her, much less how do I explain to Archangel needing her for a 'feeling'?"

The boy shrugged. "Doesn't necessarily make it any less valid.

Raising an eyebrow, Roper conceded the point. "True," he sighed. "But is sure makes it a lot harder to explain the point."

"Maybe," Nicky said, the blue eyes imploring. "But you've got to convince him."

Roper looked away from the instruments to him. "You're sure?" he asked.

The boy nodded soberly. "Yeah, I'm sure. I don't know how I know, but I do."

"Then I guess I'd better get started on the persuading," Roper commented resignedly. Strong, square tipped fingers hit the radio switch. "Red Star, Red Star, this is Santini One do you copy?"

Slamming her shoulder against the car door one last time, it finally gave with a shuddering wrench. Ruefully, Cait rubbed her arm, thinking how her bruises were going to have bruises come tomorrow. Sliding out of the car, she immediately sank down into the claylike mud. "Great," she muttered feeling it ooze between her toes and into the strappy heels.

"What's wrong?" String called, concern and frustration mingled in his tone.

"Just discovering my dancing shoes aren't made for hiking."

"Oh," he answered in that tone that said he wasn't sure he got it, but knew better than to ask. "How's it look?"

Stumbling backwards, Cait kicked off the ruined heels. "Too dark to tell," she grumbled. "I'll just have to try it and find out. You be okay here?"

"Yeah," String said quietly.

"Okay then," she said wiping her hands on her formerly white skirt. "Here goes nothing." She started towards the darkened mountainside.

"Cait?" Hawke called.

Slipping clumsily in the dark on the rocky clay, she slid back. "Yeah, String?"

"Be careful."

"Always," she grinned. Turning back to the muddy, rock strewn mountainside she started her ascent once more. If she'd thought the mud on the ledge before had been bad, it was nothing compared to the sharp rocks that cut into her bare feet now.

Scrambling another couple of feet, she slipped in the loose rock, dirt scrabbling under her nails and slid back.

"Augh-h!" she cried in frustration. "You've got to be kidding!" Grabbing a handful of sweet grass, she stopped herself in mid-slide, landing on her rear.

Heaving a breath, she crawled to her knees and started up again. Fighting the muddy tail of the dress, she struggled to hold her own. Gaining her feet, she grasped handfuls of underbrush hauling herself towards the top of the ridge.

Her palms were stinging now with a myriad of tiny cuts. Dragging herself to a flat outcropping, she reached down and ripped the skirt of the dress just above the knee with an impatient hand. Slapping it down on the ground, with a sodden splat she heaved herself up the hill.

Grabbing a couple more handfuls of grass she scrambled up the shoulder. This time she made the top, mud-streaked and weary beyond belief. The asphalt stretched on forever, with not a soul in sight.


	5. Chapter 5

Woozily, Hawke rubbed his hand across his face. The pounding in his head was getting worse. It sounded like a whole herd of elephants in there now, not just one.

He couldn't feel the pain in his leg anymore. Actually, he thought wearily, he couldn't feel much of anything now except the cold and the pain in his head.

Where the heck was Cait? he wondered. It seemed like she'd been gone forever. "Let her be okay," he whispered, the words a faint prayer on his lips.

A shiver racked his body. So cold, he thought numbly, so cold. The mountain air was often chilly in the wee dawn hours, but this was ridiculous.

The faintest glow of dawn was starting to touch the mountainside. Pale fingers of yellow touching the rocks, lighting the horizon. Wearily, Hawke struggled again to free himself, but to no avail. The effort cost him what little strength he had. Leaning his head tiredly against the seat, he fought utter exhaustion. "So tired," he whispered. "So blasted tired." Blue eyes flickered shut and closed.

* * *

Pacing the road, Caitlin rubbed chilled fingers up and down her arms, hoping to transfer a little warmth. Her arms were cold, her legs were scratched and there was still no one in sight. Who knew what kind of shape String was in.

Just how long had they been here? she thought, tamping down frustration and slumping to the ground. It seemed like forever.

It'd been dark when she'd started her scramble up the mountainside. The darkness had faded to gray since then, and now light was creeping over the rocks.

Frowning, she staggered to her feet, exhaustion making her clumsy, torn between hoping for help and her worry for Hawke. Was he really okay? They had to have been here for hours now, if it was almost day. It'd been hard to tell much of anything in the dark earlier, and Hawke was known for downplaying his injuries. Had he told her the truth earlier, or just what he thought she wanted to hear?

Anxiety ate a hole in her gut. "Blast," she muttered knowing she could no more stay here and wait on help, than fly over the moon.

Making her mind up, Caitlin began her descent pell-mell down the ridgeline. Momentum carried downward far faster than the ascent upward. Sliding, she landed on her butt and slid the rest of way down.

Mud-streaked, but relieved to be back Caitlin clambered over to the car. Light illuminated the wreck now and she winced. She'd been lucky to walk away from it, they'd both been lucky to survive.

The top of the car was dented in, the front quarter panel smashed and the front end on the driver's side crumpled from a tangle with a rather large boulder on the way down. Realization at how bad it'd been rooted her to the spot. How had she walked away? A low moan rumbled in her throat.

"Hawke?" she cried, fear clawing at her throat as she scrambled unsteadily back to the car. "Hawke?" He didn't answer.

Biting back rising hysteria, she wrenched the door open with a strength she hadn't known she possessed, crawling inside. The sight of the dark, matted hair stained with blood stopped her in her tracks. His head drooped against the door frame artlessly.

For a single heart stopping second, Caitlin couldn't tell if he was breathing. Sucking in a strengthening breath, she reached for him even as she saw the shallow rise and fall of his chest. Swallowing a tearful sigh of relief, she bowed her head in a silent prayer of thanks.

Stroking his rough cheek softly, she whispered his name. "String? String, wake up."

Blue eyes flickered open heavily. "Cait?" he asked groggily. "You're back? You okay?"

She frowned at the obvious lethargy. "Yeah," she said tearfully. "I'm here, baby. I'm okay. How 'bout you?"

"Not so hot," he whispered.

Swallowing hard, against the rush of emotion that threatened to choke her, she brushed his damp brow with a trembling hand, feeling the clamminess there. Lightly her fingers brushed the bruised cheekbone, yanking away even as he flinched.

"Sorry," she muttered.

He seemed not to notice. "Did you find help?" he murmured. "Someone's coming, right?"

Caitlin sighed, knowing she couldn't sugar coat it. "No, String," she replied somberly. "I didn't find anyone."

Frustration hissed through his teeth mixed with equal parts of anger and pain. "Probably nobody even knows we're missing yet."

* * *

"Michael, I need her!" Standing on the helipad in front of the hanger, Roper raked his hand through his short, brown hair in frustration.

"I understand you're worried," Archangel began placatingly. "But that doesn't mean something has gone terribly wrong. Maybe Hawke and Caitlin decided to stay overnight, maybe they partied a little too hard and overslept this morning - any of a hundred possibilities exist."

"None of which explain both Hawke and Caitlin missing that aerial shoot this morning. Business has been off and we needed that job. They both wouldn't have forgotten. Surely, you know them both better than that Michael!"

Stroking his mustache thoughtfully, the spy had to agree. He'd never met a man with a more highly developed sense of responsibility than Hawke. If he hadn't called, then Roper was right - something was wrong.

Leaning on his cane, he limped across the hanger bay. "Okay," he said agreeing abruptly. "Take Marella with you and take any supplies with you that you think you might need. Nicky and Amelia will stay here with me."

"No!" The tone was sharp, and determined. "I'm going with Roper to find my Dad!"

Scowling, Michael frowned at the boy. "Nicky look, I understand you're worried about your dad and your mom, but this is a job for grown-ups. You'll only slow them down. Go with Lauren, and I'll be up to see you later. I promise." Placing a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder, he urged him towards his assistant.

Glaring, the boy took his sister's hand and marched across the tarmac, fury evident in his every step. Watching him go, Archangel shook his head. "Suddenly, I'm having a lot more sympathy for Dom, if that's what Hawke and his brother were like as kids," Michael murmured.

Roper looked at him in puzzlement.

"Never mind," he said. "Before your time. Now what were you saying you needed in supplies? We'll see about getting them down here by the time Marella arrives."

* * *

Holding Amelia's hand, Nicky trailed Lauren. He liked the pretty, petite blonde and she'd always been more than nice to them, but he had no intention of her babysitting him for the day. Passing one of the secretary's desks, he grabbed a piece of tape.

Amelia frowned at him, her question apparent in her eyes. He shook his head warningly and she subsided, only casting suspicious glances at him from time to time.

Heels clicking across the tile floor, Lauren quickly led the way to Marella's office. Passing through the vestibule she motioned for them to have a seat before turning back to the cabinets on the far side of the room.

Hurriedly, Nicky slapped the tape across the catch of the door, preventing it from locking behind him. Quietly, Nicky joined his sister in one of the chairs. He schooled his features into a worried expression, something not hard to do and waited.

Lauren turned back to them, sympathy in her gentle violet eyes. "Okay guys," she said, Archangel will be in later to let you know when they've found something. It may be a little while because he's got another problem that he's got to take care of first." She sighed thinking of the new problem in the Urals, hopefully it wouldn't involve her new husband Brian. Dragging her attention back to the kids she continued.

"Marella left her computer up so you can use it, and I've unlocked the cabinet so there should be plenty to keep you two occupied for a while."

Amelia and Nicky nodded.

"If you need anything, just give me a buzz, okay?"

Again they nodded like automatons.

She frowned worriedly. "It'll be okay, guys," she promised. "They'll find them, you'll see."

Nicky dropped his eyes to the carpet and nodded.

Reaching for the door handle on the other side of the room, Lauren started into her office.

Nicky raised his head. "Lauren?" he called.

"Yes, Nicky?" she paused in the doorway.

"Thanks."

"Sure sweetie," she replied giving him a reassuring smile, before stepping through and closing the door behind her. The lock clicked shut.

Spinning, Amelia turned on her brother. "What're you doing?" she hissed.

He turned on her furiously. "Going to get Dad. Now be quiet, before she hears you."

"I want to go Nicky," she whispered, turning imploring eyes on him.

"I know," he replied guiltily. "But I can't sneak both of us out and onto Airwolf, and even if I could, there's not room by the time we get Mom and Dad."

The smaller child nodded, her eyes filling with tears.

"Stop that!" Nicky whispered desperately. "I need you to stay here and Lauren will know something's up if she comes in and finds you blubbering all over the place. You have to cover for me." He gripped her arm tightly.

"Ow!" she winced, smacking his hand.

" 'Melia, you've got to do it," he implored.

"Okay, okay," she whispered.

Releasing her, he snuck to the door and after casting one last glance over his shoulder, stealthily crept out. Cautiously, he slipped down the hall with the familiarity of long practice.

Coming to the stairwell door, he carefully opened it, slipping silently down the stairs on rubber-soled feet. He had to hurry, or they'd be gone and all his efforts would be for nothing. Finally, he came to the last of the stairs and the door that led out to the hanger where Airwolf was stored when she wasn't in use.

Peering through the window in the door on tip-toe, he spotted Michael and Marella outside talking animatedly. Roper was on the far side, gathering up first aid supplies. The opportunity was as good as he was going to get.

"Just don't let me get caught, Angelwolf," he pled, his fingers tightening on the door handle as he turned it. Now came the hardest part, crossing the open hanger and getting inside the Lady without getting caught. Silently, he padded across the concrete floor, reaching for the cockpit door handle and holding his breath against the pressurized whoosh she made when he opened the door.

It never came.

Puzzled, he frowned before pulling himself up. That was weird, he thought, but he wasn't going to complain. Scrambling, he clambered over the pilot's chair and ducked down under the supplies already in the back.


	6. Chapter 6

Scuffling around under the seat, Cait hunted for her purse. She'd been hunting for a while now. Maybe it'd gotten knocked out in the wreck, she thought in frustration. She sure wasn't finding it.

A glimmer of white caught her eye. "Aha!" she crowed triumphantly. "Gotcha!"

String merely raised an eyebrow, too tired to really care. "Found it, I take it?" he muttered.

Crawling in the floorboards, her arm scraping on a seat spring, Cait nodded. "Hopefully, I'll be able to raise somebody on my cell phone," she commented.

Stretching mightily, slender fingers closed on the purse strap dragging it closer towards her. Tugging she pulled it free, the prize finally in her hands.

Eagerly, she pawed through it, String watching her. After a minute, she frowned and began pawing more desperately, only to finally dump the contents out in the car seat. She groaned, no cell phone.

"Not there?" he guessed.

"No," she fumed, "but I always carry it…" and then the memory of emptying her other purse came back, the contents all over the bed in her rush. "Blast," she fumed in frustration.

"Where's mine?" String asked.

"You had yours?" she asked disbelievingly. "You never carry it."

"After last time, I figured that was a habit I needed to break," he said wryly, his voice low.

"I could kiss you," she enthused.

String raised an eyebrow at his wife, but she'd already gone back to her hunt.

"So where is it?" she asked.

"Got me…" String gasped, suddenly feeling short of breath. Leaning his head back against the seat, he willed the moment to pass. Strong fingers tightened on the steering wheel, as if to anchor him to reality. The grip became almost white-knuckled for a moment. Caught up in the hunt, Caitlin failed to notice.

The feeling passed at last. Carefully releasing a shuddering breath, he relaxed into the seat.

"No luck?" he whispered.

Cait stopped what she was doing, and looked at him strangely. A frown knit her brows. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, suddenly really staring at him. Was it her imagination or did he look more flushed than he had earlier? She started to reach to feel of his forehead…

"I'm fine, Cait," he rasped, brushing her hand and her concerns away. "You need to look for the phone."

Hurt, she dropped her gaze, even though she knew he was right. From the looks of the road up top, help might be a long time in coming.

Shoving aside her feelings, she took a resolute breath. "Right," she said aiming for cheerfulness. "One cell phone coming right up," and with that she went back to searching the backseat and the floorboards.

String closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. Much as he hated to admit it, he felt a lot worse than earlier and the seeping numbness was beginning to scare even him. But there was no help for it, nothing he could do, nothing Caitlin could do and no need scaring her. He just hoped he could hang on til help came.

* * *

Taking the helm of Airwolf on his own for the first time, Roper pulled back on the collective. Light touch, light touch, he kept thinking, conscious of the lessons Hawke had given him. No matter how you looked at it, it was a lot different than piloting the Jet Ranger.

Pushing forward on the stick he eased her away from Red Star control, Marella manning the engineers chair. There was a certain irony, he thought to him piloting the helicopter when Marella had to have far more hours of helicopter experience behind her, but he needed her expertise on the computers and running the scans. They made for a strange team, he had to admit. The only thing missing was Nicky and his dogged, snarling determination - he'd really regretted having to leave him at Red Star, but perhaps Archangel was right and it was for the best.

"300 knots," Marella said calling out their air speed. The best he could manage without turbos, he thought in frustration. Compared to the fighter jets he'd flown, this felt like practically dragging his feet - especially now that he had the unshakeable sense that time was running out. "Thanks Nicky," he muttered. "Like I needed all your dreams of wolves and death and fire running around in my head too. Not like I'm not neurotic enough already."

"What?" Marella asked, her voice soft in his ear.

Mentally he groaned, having forgotten momentarily the radio system. "Nothing," he muttered. "Just thinking out loud."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah," he said hoping to head off that particular conversation. Marella with all her degrees and doctorates scared the heck out of him. He really didn't like the idea of somebody else picking his brain apart and analyzing what he thought about something, when he wasn't even sure he knew what he thought.

"Thirty minutes out from the hotel," Marella informed, looking at their onboard maps. "You've got a couple possibilities road wise assuming they actually left the reception."

"No reports of kidnappings or muggings?" Roper reported.

Non-plussed, Marella glanced at him. "No."

"Then they left the reception - the question is which way."

Contemplating the screen, she mulled over the options. "Probably Gordon's Canyon Road," she said finally. "They're both pretty desolate, but it's the easier route - something to consider if it'd been late and they were both tired."

"Gordon's Canyon it is," Roper clipped out, pointing the helicopter in that direction as the map came up on his console. "And Marella…"

"Yes?"

"Hang on," he said, having made a decision about turbos. If he could fly fighter jets, he figured he should be able to fly Airwolf.

"Roper!" she started to protest, grabbing hold of the console. "Hawke hasn't trained you for pursuit flight with turbos!"

"Never kissed a girl before that first time either and I managed just fine," he said with a cocky grin as he hit the button.

* * *

"Well, I never kissed a boy before 'til the first time, but somehow I managed…"Cait's long ago words on the movie set drifted back to him as he dozed off, intermittently drifting despite his best efforts to stay in the present. Even now, he could remember the way the sunlight had caught that morning in the coppery strands, and the look on Dom's face when she'd said that. If he was honest, he thought that was when he'd first truly fallen for her. Though the kiss next to the Hughes before they'd shot the stunt sequence in the movie hadn't been bad either, he thought with a faint half-grin.

Caitlin had hunted a long time for the cell phone, before finally finding it in the floorboard wedged between the door and the driver's seat. The display had been cracked and it'd refused to power up. In helpless frustration, he'd listened to her rail and rant, her red-headed temper getting the best of her before the tears came. There hadn't been a heck of a lot he could do about it, except wait her out.

After she'd gotten over the worst of it, her cheeks still damp with tears of frustration, he'd talked her into making the climb up to the road again. She'd been gone for a while now, leastwise he thought it'd been a while - his grip on reality was getting more tenuous by the minute and he knew it. He kept drifting between the past and the present.

"Better she's up there," he whispered even as his conscience snarled otherwise, calling him a coward. An aching numbness covered his whole body now, making even breathing an effort. The truth was, he didn't want to face the fear in her eyes when she realized he wasn't going to walk away from this one.

"God watch over her," he prayed, closing his eyes against the pain as another shudder wracked him. "I love her so much."

Clawing and crushing, the pain sat on his chest as he struggled for another breath. Sweat dampened hands clenched the steering wheel, before falling open as the swirling darkness sucked and dragged him under.

* * *

Hurtling over the hillside, Airwolf's wail echoing eerily behind them, Roper admitted it was nothing like fling a jet. Oh yeah, it was every bit as fast, but she practically breathed beneath his fingers, a living entity of circuits and metal with the soul of a wolf. Suddenly the name Airwolf fit her so well, and why Hawke had refused to give her up despite the high personal cost to him over the years became clear. She was an addiction, a lady with a hold over his soul. What was it Nicky had called her? Angel? Angelwolf? How appropriate - a dark angel with the ability to kill or save, depending on her master. He was abruptly glad that it had been Hawke who had ended up with her.

A noise behind him, had him jumping, snatching the stick heavenward even as he turned.

"What the…" Marella's words hung there tantalizing him as he glanced for the reason behind them. "Nicky?" she breathed, surprise in her voice, " but you're supposed to be at Red Star with Michael."

Flyaway, reddish brown fringe topped the startlingly blue eyes that met his as he glanced to the back of the chopper.

"Well, I'm not," the boy said, obviously defiant as he clamored over the console to the co-pilot's seat. "I told him I was going with Airwolf and Roper to find my Dad, and I meant it."

Concerned, Roper threw Marella a look over his shoulder. She shrugged as if to ask, what now?

"You should've stayed," he began more out of a sense of obligation than any real conviction. He couldn't blame the kid, he thought. He only hoped he had as much guts as the boy seemed to have.

"Maybe," the blue eyes met his squarely, "but I'm here now and you can't go back."

Marella's soft voice agreed in his helmet. "He's right. I've contacted Lauren and Brian. Caitlin and Hawke left the party early - there's no reason why they shouldn't have made it back for the aerial shoot. If anything they should've been early if they'd stayed at the hanger to wait out the storm."

"Storm?" he questioned. "What storm?"

Nicky's piercing blue eyes flew to his face, nothing escaping their sharp gaze. "What storm?" he mouthed.

"Weather was forecasting a high intensity storm system over the lower range of the mountains between here and Van Nuys," she replied. "Nicky, put on your helmet," she commanded when he ignored the outstretched helmet Roper offered out to him.

Distractedly, he took it from his half-brother's hand, cramming it home on his head.

"When they'd leave?" Nicky demanded, looking at Marella.

Dividing his attention between the instruments and nap of the earth flight, no longer in turbo mode, Roper gave her a look as if to say, tell him - what've we got to lose.

"Eleven."

The boy frowned. "What time was the storm supposed to come in?"

"12:30," Marella answered. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Nicky scowled. "You're on the wrong road. They went the other way. Go back!"

Dark, mocha-colored brown eyes flew to meet Roper's. "How do you know that?" Marella demanded, Gordon's Canyon being the logical choice to her.

"Because the road towards Dead Horse Flats is quicker - it's shorter, Marella!" the boy cried in frustration. "If he'd been trying to beat the storm back, he'd have taken the shorter route!"

Startled mocha-colored eyes widened momentarily, before dropping down to the computer monitors.

"Roper?" the boy pled. "You've got to believe me!"

He paused, listening to the clacking of Marella's finger over the keys.

"He's right," she admitted. "It is closer, a lot rougher terrain and more curves, but closer."

"How much?" Roper demanded.

The keys flew as Marella punched in the calculations. "Maybe half an hour?" Depends on how fast he drove it."

Roper grimaced. He'd flown with Hawke, he had no reason to think he drove any different. "When'd the storm come in?" he demanded tersely.

Again the keys clacked and flew. "Forty minutes early," Marella murmured.

Cursing, Roper turned Airwolf in a tight left roll almost on her own axis, the engines screaming in protest as he called for turbos.

Marella complied, the g-forces slamming her into her seat as they headed back the way they'd come, towards Dead Horse Flats.


	7. Chapter 7

The sun sweltering down on her, Caitlin swiped a scratched and sweaty hand across her brow. Sand gritted in her eyes and the occasional gust of wind was still like a furnace blast. She stood on the dirt shoulder of the road, the asphalt too hot for bare feet.

Not a soul anywhere. "Okay, I give," she wailed. "Why'd they build a road in the middle of nowhere in nobody drives on it?"

Scuffing her feet in frustration, she bit back a yelp as her foot connected with a thorny piece of underbrush. Limping, she plodded over to a nearby boulder to pull out the offending thorn. Surely somebody had to have missed them by now? She thought in desperation.

She looked down at her dress watch, the crystal now scratched and scarred. Thankfully, it'd survived the crash or she thought she'd go mad. What had seemed like forever, it dutifully reminded her, really wasn't. It just seemed like it.

Resting her head in her hands, she contemplated the road. Best she could guess, since she'd been asleep when the accident had happened, they were about at the halfway point to Van Nuys. Forty-five minutes driving equaled maybe what - maybe 30-40 miles on these winding roads? Too far to walk is what it equals, she thought in frustration, at least quick enough to do any good.

This waiting was killing her. She needed to flag somebody, anybody down for help, but she was painfully aware Hawke was getting weaker. What if she lost him down there, while she hoped for a passerby in vain up here?

Desperation clawed at her throat, panic and fear becoming well-known companions. She pressed a shaking hand against her mid-section. "What am I supposed to do?" she sobbed, fighting the rising anxiety.

* * *

Clinging to his seat, Nicky watched the pilot's monitors with a judicious eye. Almost like he knew what he was doing, Roper thought cynically. Heck, he thought, maybe the kid did know - he seemed to be a step ahead of the rest of them so far. He just hoped it was enough to save Caitlin and hawke.

"Okay, cut turbos," Marella said, her voice clear and authoritative through the helmet radio. "We're coming up on Dead Horse Flats Road."

"Kick on search radar, IFF scanner and infrared," Roper replied, squinting against the sun's glare.

"Done," Marella responded. "Nothing yet."

A hundred feet up Roper scanned the visuals, his hand light on the stick. Nose down she skimmed over the road, looking for any trace of the car String had borrowed from Seb. Head against the window, Nicky held his breath as he searched.

The communications console lit up, an incoming alarm alerting them as it did so. Roper hit the receive buttons as he wove over the road. "Make it quick, Michael. We're busy here."

The spy frowned. "Any luck yet?" he asked tapping his fingers in front of him on the desk.

"Not yet," Roper replied shortly. "We've changed search areas. Marella is running scans right now."

"Right," Michael drawled, almost as if he wanted to delay the inevitable.

"Spit it out, Michael," Roper rasped. "I don't have time for this right now." The unfamiliar strain of controlling the powerful helicopter was beginning to wear on his arms, causing a fine tremor of exhaustion.

Adjusting his glasses, the spy nodded reluctantly. "I hate to be the bearer of more bad news, but Nicky's missing."

Roper snorted in amusement. "Well, glad to see ya'll realized that," he said with a sardonic grin.

"You knew?" Michael said in puzzlement. "But we only realized it a few minutes ago, apparently he gave Lauren the slip - rigged the door behind them so it wouldn't lock."

"You don't say," Roper commented dryly, eyeing the kid with new found respect. "Well, maybe he'll make you a good agent one of these days, assuming you can keep up with him."

"You don't sound very concerned," Archangel snapped. "We still haven't located him, and Red Star's in an uproar hunting for him!"

"Then call them off," Roper smirked. "I know where he is and he couldn't be safer."

"You know…where?"

Reaching up, Roper swung the camera view to the co-pilot's seat, clearly displaying Nicky pressed up against the cockpit door glass.

"But how?" Michael asked, as the camera swung back to Roper.

"Got me, Michael, but I think you might need to work on that security of yours. You just got beat out by a ten-year old boy."

Flushing, Michael colored. "Well, since you seem to have the problem in hand, I'll go collect my agents." With that he reached for the communications switch.

Roper beat him to the punch. "Hey Michael," he called.

"Yeah?"

"Don't lose his sister. I hear eight-year old girls are pretty slippery, too."

Glaring, Archangel hit the end button.

"Roper!" Marella admonished, her tone stern, but her eyes very amused. "That wasn't very nice!"

"Nope," he agreed with a devilish grin. "But it was fun." Sobering, he looked at the boy beside him, remembering why he was here. "Anything on the scans yet?"

Any amusement in her voice disappeared. "No," she replied glumly. "Nothing."

* * *

Sliding down the embankment a second time, Caitlin wryly muttered, "Well, if help waits much longer I'm going to get arrested for indecent exposure." The skirt which she'd already shortened earlier was shorter still now, coming to mid-thigh. She'd made a return trip down to the boulder to find the gauzy lower skirt she'd already ripped asunder and hiked her way back up to the top.

The handkerchief hem fluttered like ghostly flags in the afternoon breeze around the edges of the road, hung from juniper branches she'd pulled from the underbrush. A couple more stuck from piles of rock placed in the middle of the road, their "flags" quivering in the wind. Meticulously laid out beside it all, across both lanes an arrow made of fist sized rocks pointing to the edge of the embankment, its twin on the other side of the "flags" in the middle of the road.

Tripping over a loose rock, Caitlin stumbled to her knees, a low cry of pain escaping her lips as her palms smacked the gravel. Biting her lip hard enough to draw blood, she pushed to her feet. "I swear if I never see this particular piece of scenery again," she mumbled tears in her eyes, "it'll be too soon."

Picking her way wearily down the last twenty-five feet of the embankment, she made her way down to the ledge and Hawke. Panting, she rested her hands on her thighs as her chest heaved for air. Finally, summoning the last of her strength she limped to the car. "Honey, I'm home!" she called faking a cheer she surely did not feel, and only hoping Hawke would be able to appreciate.

Silence greeted her.

Peering in the open window at Hawke's pale form, head lolled against the door frame, she fought gut-wrenching fear as she struggled with the cantankerous door. "Be okay, let him be okay," she cried over and over like a mantra as she snatched and struggled with the door, pulling loose a fingernail and not even noticing.

Finally the door gave, and she flung herself across the seat at him, her fingers reaching desperately to his neck for a pulse. "Let it be there, let it be there," she whispered, her fingers questing, searching. And after a heart stopping pause she finally found it. Fast and shocky, but there nonetheless.

Bonelessly, she slumped against him, fear and exhaustion taking their toll. At least they hadn't run out of time - yet.

* * *

Pacing the floor in Marella's office, Archangel kept watch over Amelia, knowing Hawke would kill him if he lost his child. Agitation and stress made the limp pronounced as he strode the room back and forth. He still couldn't believe a ten-year old boy had outsmarted experienced Firm agents. Perhaps it was time he retired, he thought ruefully, smoothing his mustache. "Still, he is Hawke's son," he mused, "and if he wasn't a lot like him he'd never have made it this far." Oddly, the thought was a comfort, a reminder of the adversary and ally Hawke had been over the years. The man was tough, there was no denying it, and there was no reason he wouldn't walk away from this one unscathed as he had so many others.

"Uncle Michael?"

The child's voice ripped him from his melancholy musings. "Yes, Amelia?"

"Are Mommy and Daddy coming back?"

The simple question slammed him in the chest. He closed his eyes on a huge sigh. "I sure hope so, Amelia," he said, kneeling painfully down to her level.

Questioning blue eyes in an upturned face met his, as the doll trailed forgotten from her fingertips. "When?"

"I don't know, sweetheart," he whispered, leaning against the cherry desk and sliding down to sit beside her.

"I wish they'd come soon," she whispered, snuggling up beside the white clad spy, silent tears running down her face, the doll scrunched in her hands.

Reaching over, he pulled her into his lap with a sigh. "So do I, Amelia," he murmured, smoothing the auburn colored curls. "So do I."

* * *

"I can't find them anywhere," frustration edged Marella's voice as she scanned the monitors for any sign of Caitlin and Hawke.

"How much further does the road go?" Roper asked, tension knotting his shoulders.

"Forty-five miles."

"Think we chose right?" he asked quietly, shooting an uneasy glance at Nicky who appeared to be asleep.

"I sure hope so," she returned, worry darkening her tone. "If not, and they're hurt, they're running out of time, if we aren't too late already."

"I know," he heaved a frustrated breath. "What do we do?"

"Keep looking I guess and then start over, if necessary," she said exhaustion evident. "We have to find them."

Looking at Nicky, curled up in the co-pilot's chair, his face worried even in sleep, Roper sighed. "Yeah," he said wearily, "I know."

* * *

The wolf was back, her long snout sniffing the wind before her. Her ears perked forward and alert, even as he stepped cautiously along the path. Swiveling her head, she stared at him unafraid, amber eyes aglow.

"Angel," he whispered. "I need you."

The ears flicked back and forward. She turned unconcernedly and started to trot up the path.

Panic rushed him. "Angel!" he cried, hurrying towards her. "Please angel!"

The black she-wolf, her coat edged in grey turned, snarling at him, warning him to keep his distance.

He froze, knowing he walked a fine line between gaining her trust and losing her. Crouching he met her eyes, unafraid despite the low growl she gave as he drew closer.

"Hawke needs you, Angelwolf. I need you," he murmured. "I can't find him by myself."

She sniffed him warily, the dark nose twitching, the eyes unblinking. Edging closer she paused.

Carefully, he stretched out his fingers to her. "Please Angel, he's lost. I need you to find him," he whispered, hardly daring to hope. The she-wolf eyed him, nosing his fingers as she did so. Inhaling his scent, the heat of her nostrils against his skin, sensing him.

And then the pink tongue lolled out, licking his hand, a surprising gesture of trust. Reaching over, he buried his fingers in her thick fur, feeling the scars and ridges underneath with his touch, and comprehension dawned.

"You need him, too, don't cha girl?" he whispered in wonderment. "We both do."

Abruptly the boy startled awake, so suddenly he about fell in the floor. Roper cast a surprised glance at him as he did so. "Easy," he soothed, redirecting his attention back to the ground in front of him and to the instruments. "You didn't miss anything."

The touch was light on the stick now. Confident, sure. Not Hawke's, but enough.

"Where are we?" the boy demanded.

"Still on Dead Horse Flats Road," Marella answered. "Nicky, maybe we made a mistake…"

The boy cut her off. "Where's Wolf's Mesa?"

"Wolf's what?" Marella questioned.

"Wolf's Mesa," the boy exclaimed, his voice rising. "The road cuts through it!"

Frowning, Marella punched up a geographical map of the area. Tracing the formations with a fingernail, she worried her lip. "I don't see a Wolf's Mesa, Nicky…" she began. "Wait, there it is!" she cried excitedly. "I see it!"

"Where?" Roper tossed out tersely.

"Ten miles ahead, road winds through the outcropping."

"They're there." Nicky stated absolute certainty in his voice. "Call Michael."

"But Nick," Marella began, even as she hoped against hope he was right, "don't you think…"

"Call him!" the boy yelled, his blue eyes fever bright. "Do it!"

"Alright," the female spy replied, punching up the communications board, even as she shot Roper a questioning glance. "Red Star, Red Star this is Airwolf, do you read?"

Realizing she'd done as he'd asked, Marella ceased to exist for Nicky. His whole attention focused on the rocky ground in front of him.

Roper shoved the throttle forward, urging the sleek, black helicopter towards Wolf's Mesa and where the road intersected it.

Doing a double take on the screen in front of him, Roper sucked in a harsh breath. "Marella," he called, dragging her attention away from the communications board. "You're not going to believe this!"

Strewn across the road and around it a half dozen, gauzy white flags flapped in the wind.

Stunned, Marella dropped her hand from the communications board bringing up the video cameras and zooming in with them.

"Marella!" Michael's voice cut across the airwaves, impatience and apprehension edged in every nuance of it. "What's happening?"

"We've found them, Michael," she muttered, disbelief in her tone even as she looked at the image. "You'd better send a rescue team," she punched in the co-ordinates methodolically before numbly signing off.


	8. Chapter 8

A ghostly wind drone whispering in her ears, Caitlin stirred. The afternoon heat, and exhaustion sucked her strength, dragging against her.

Under her hand, String's fingers trembled, a furtive, fluttery motion that startled her instantly awake.

"Hawke?" she whispered, hoping and yet afraid to. The fingers flinched in her grip again.

"Cait?" he whispered, the sound barely a breath in her ear.

Grabbing his hand, she hung on, her grip desperate as the fingers tightened spasmodically in hers.

Above her on the road, the ghostly drone became an odd trilling sound, Airwolf landing gently on her struts. Faint shouts echoed back to her, the sound distant and far away, another life. The thud of running feet, the scrabble of loose gravel falling down the mountain, the slide of booted feet behind it.

Caitlin remained oblivious to it all, her attention focused squarely on the man who'd been her very life the past ten years. "Hawke?" she whispered again, her voice pleading.

The long, dark lashes fluttered, opened. The beautiful blue eyes struggled to focus and failed.

Feet slammed to the ground behind her, thudding dully. Roper's voice and Marella's calling out to her, dragging the door open.

"I'm here, String," she murmured, every fiber of her being centered on him. She reached a shaking hand up to smooth the sweat-dampened hair from his face, her palm cupping his cheek as she did so.

"Love you," he muttered. "Always have…always will." The eyes dropped closed.

Her fingers slid across his face, his lips, feeling the breath that was there one instant and gone the next.

"No!" she screamed, "no! Please no!"

Frozen the moment before, Roper snatched her out of the way, dragging her from the car. Marella practically climbing over her in her haste. Practiced hands felt for a cartoid pulse , didn't find it.

"Get me the first aid kit!" she screamed, pinching his nostrils shut and breathing hard into his mouth. Beside her, she could hear Roper scrambling through the kit, Caitlin's broken sobs on the ground outside.

Once, twice. Breathe, breath. Suck in a breath. Do it again. Don't you die on me, Stringfellow Hawke.

Roper had the kit in front of her now. She felt for Hawke's cartoid pulse, thought she felt it, wasn't sure. Breathed again.

And then, the miracle happened that she'd been praying so desperately for, she felt Hawke's chest rise and fall on its own, beneath her hand as he dragged in a shuddering breath. "Oh, God thank you," she prayed, shoving the kit and the defibrillator back at Roper as she scrambled out of the car.

Stumbling he caught her, before she would've fallen. Scrambling upright, Marella snatched free of his grip. "Get him out," she ordered, her own breath raspy in her lungs. "Fast, no matter what it takes. I can't be assured it'll work next time."

The younger pilot nodded, crawling in, accessing the situation.

Finally, a second to think, Marella glanced around at the others. Nicky stood outside the car, wide-eyed and dumbfounded, Caitlin still sobbed half-hysterically on the ground.

Poor kid, Marella thought sympathetically, before steeling her emotions. "Nicky," she called, pulling the child away from the car and hoping Hawke had the good grace not to die in front of his son.

"Yeah?" he said, turning shell-shocked blue eyes to hers.

"I need you to get your Mom up to Airwolf, okay?"

The boy nodded mutely, his thoughts tangled and chaotic. Silently, he walked over to Cait, huddled on the ground. Speaking softly to her, he managed to drag her to her feet and point her in the direction of the path up to the road.

Problem temporarily eliminated, Marella turned back to the car. Wedging herself in the back seat. She hung over it keeping an eye on Hawke and his older son. "Any luck?" she asked, worriedly watching the uneasy rise and fall of Hawke's chest.

"Not really," Roper answered. "His leg's caught between the seat and the door and I can't get any room to work. No leverage."

Hanging over the seat, Marella accessed the situation with a critical eye. "How 'bout if you adjust the steering wheel?" she asked. "Will it move any?"

Pulling the lever, Roper forced the wheel to the next position. "Okay," he said, "better but still not enough."

Marella frowned at Hawke, not happy with what she saw. One problem at a time, she reminded herself forcing her attention back to freeing him. "Okay," she murmured, "How 'bout if we slide the seat back?"

Roper nodded, reaching below the seat for the lever and shoving. Groaning the seat slid backwards, forcing Marella up onto the backseat cushion for lack of space. "Almost," he grunted. "Any other ideas?"

Marella frowned, shaking her head no. "Wait!" she exclaimed. "How about if you recline the driver's seat back? That'd give a little more maneuvering room."

"Worth a try," he said, tugging on the side seat lever, while Marella pushed her weight down against it from above. It gave with a jolt. Hawke let out a pained gasp as the vise on his leg tightened.

"Okay," Marella said meeting Roper's blue eyes with her brown ones. "We're going to trade positions and you're going to pull him out by his shoulders. Don't pull 'til I say so, alright."

Serious-faced, the pilot nodded, sliding out of the way to let her clamor over the seat and into the driver's floorboard. Once there she tugged his left foot free of the brake pedal and clutch, only then sliding her fingers around and under his thigh and knee. Bracing her back against the roof of the car, she waited.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Ready," he replied grimly.

"Now!" she cried, heaving with all her strength as he tugged. Her fingers wedged between Hawke's leg and the door. She felt the crush of metal as they wedged between.

"Rest!" she gasped, the pain excruciating as the metal cut into her hand. Roper eased back, waiting. Biting her lip, Marella tightened her agonized grip on his leg. "Alright," she said, knotting her fingers around his leg. "Let's try again. On the count of three."

Roper nodded, counting with her.

"One, two, three!" Together they heaved and tugged, Hawke's leg finally pulling free and skin scraping from Marella's hand. Flexing her aching and useless fingers, she slid her arm under Hawke's injured leg, even as Roper tugged his body out of the car.

Starting to lay him down on the ground outside, Marella shook her head. "we've got to get him to Airwolf. I can't do much for him down here, there at least I can monitor his systems, get a better idea what to do."

"How do you suggest we do that?" Roper queried, eyeing the uneven terrain.

"Carefully," Marella muttered, even as a part of her winced at the idea of dragging Hawke up that unforgiving mountainside. There was no help for it, she told herself ruthlessly, if he stayed here, he died.

A tousled, reddish-brown head popped over the edge of the shoulder. "Michael's on the radio," he called. He said they're on their way. ETA approximately 45 minutes."

"Great," Marella grunted bitterly.

"Do we wait?" Roper asked, looking at her.

Sliding her fingers to Hawke's throat, Marella felt his pulse, watched the respirations that were fast and uneven. "No," she muttered. "He can't wait that long."


	9. Chapter 9

Grasping the battered and bruised man under the shoulders, Roper carefully edged his way up the slope. Nicky had pointed out a half-covered path that traversed the worst of the loose rocks, and he and Marella had taken it, hoisting Hawke's limp body between theirs.

Sweat ran in his eyes, dripping down across Hawke's shoulder as he struggled up the slope, knowing he dare not fall or he might end up killing them all. The ledge looked even smaller from this vantage point. It'd be lucky if they even hit it, he thought.

His foot slipped on the loose rock, nearly felling him, instead sending him abruptly to his rear. Marella sucked in a sharp groan as she suddenly caught the majority of Hawke's weight.

"Careful," she hissed, recovering her balance at the last instant.

"Sorry," he muttered, staggering awkwardly to his feet. Together they made the last few feet up the mountainside. Panting they rested, preparing for the last few yards to Airwolf and getting Hawke inside.

"Still say go?" Roper asked, raising questioning eyes to hers. "They're thirty minutes out."

"Yeah," Marella said, "but then they're thirty minutes from the hospital. Airwolf can do it in fifteen."

"You're the boss," he intoned. "Let's do it then." Stooping beneath their load, they shuffled awkwardly to the helicopter, gleaming in the late afternoon sun.

Even as they got there, String's breathing got more labored, more raspy.

"Get him in now!" Marella panted, "and get me some room to work."

Hearing her, Nicky and Caitlin scrambled out of the way, Caitlin taking Marella's place as the other woman scrambled aboard to help Roper hoist String's body into the helicopter.

Muscles bunching, Roper drug him aboard even as Marella scrambled for an oxygen mask and snapped it over Hawke's face even as she punched up the crew monitoring systems. Fumbling she pulled a small device out of the left top pocket of a flight suit and shoving aside Hawke's tux jacket and pulling open his shirt, taped it firmly across the left side of his bare chest.

Roper looked at her questioningly.

"Monitors physical stress," she said impatiently. The helmet does the same neurologically, but I need access."

Looking up at the lights flaring up across the boards in the back, Roper nodded. There appeared to be a lot more red than green.

"So what does it tell you?" he asked.

Glancing up from her patient, Marella scowled. "A lot more bad, than good," she muttered. "You'd better get your butt in gear enroute to the hospital."

Communications lit up, an incoming alarm sounding. Roper reached for it, punching it on with an impatient finger. "Yeah?" he answered.

Archangel's voice filled the cockpit. "Fifteen minutes out," he informed succinctly. "How's the patient?"

"Not good," Marella retorted, not meeting Caitlin's eyes. "Can you pick up Nicky and Caitlin if I leave them here?"

"Sure," Michael responded. "Why?"

"I need to get Hawke to the clinic as soon as possible and I need the space to work on him if necessary. I don't have it with them," she said her brown eyes pinning Caitlin ruthlessly.

Pained beyond belief, Cait took a shell-shocked step backwards even as she heard the words, pulling Nicky with her. Marella's response was to push the button to close the rear bay doors.

"Hey!" Roper said. "You can't be serious, leaving the woman alone out here with her husband possibly dying."

Marella turned hard, brown eyes on the younger pilot. "I'm deadly serious," she spat. "Now are you going to fly this thing, so I can do my job or are you going to join them outside?"

Wisely, Roper backed off. "Fly," he said his tone edged with resentment. "What else?"

Kneeling on the hard metal floor beside Hawke, her fingers efficiently setting up a makeshift I.V. Marella's eyes trailed to the video monitors even as they took off. She swallowed hard seeing the look in Caitlin's face as she and Nicky looked up at the rapidly retreating helicopter. "You better make this worthwhile and live, you lug," she whispered to Hawke the tone harsh, even though the fingers that threaded through his hair were gentle, "for what I'm putting her through."


	10. Chapter 10

A pair of white Bell 222's set down on the road in front of the makeshift distress display. Eyeing Cait there, muddy and bruised, red-hair flying in the wind in the shortest skirt he'd ever seen her wear and bare feet, Michael suppressed a whistle of shock. If this is what the "healthy" one looked like, he wasn't sure he wanted to see Hawke. Still, he mused as he climbed out of the helicopter, you had to admit the woman was a class act. She was one of the few women he knew who could pull off rags and make them look designer - Marella being the other.

"Cait, come on!" he yelled over the sound of the rotor wash. Giving one last glance to the sky where Airwolf had hovered only moments before, she limped over to Archangel and the second Bell helicopter.

Taking in her stunned, glazed look, he frowned with concern. She looked like she was ready to drop where she stood. He grasped her arm, tugging and guiding her over to the Bell 222 fitted out as an air ambulance. Nicky followed.

Reaching it, the medics helped her in. Not the patient they'd been expecting, but obviously one in need nonetheless. The female medic began bathing her scratched and cut legs with antiseptic.

"How's Hawke?" Archangel yelled over the noise of the rotors. Cait just stared at him vacantly. Getting really concerned now, Marella hadn't mentioned this, he turned to Nicky. "Well?" he demanded.

The boy swallowed nervously, his gaze dropping to the ground. "I - I don't know," he admitted. "I thought he'd died, Mom was sure screaming and acting like it…"

"But?" the spy prompted, with a questioning look. There had to be more, he thought desperately. Surely this wasn't how it all would end.

"Roper snatched Mom out of the car. Marella was pinching his nose and breathing for him. She and Roper got him out, but I don't know…" the boy trailed off miserably. "It's not good is it?" the blue eyes swimming in tears, pleaded with him to tell him otherwise.

Michael swallowed and shook his head. No, he thought it certainly didn't sound good at all. No wonder Marella hadn't waited for the Medivac 'copter, Airwolf was his best bet.

Steeling himself, Archangel threw his shoulders back and took control of the situation. Whatever else was between him and Hawke, he thought grimly, he owed him this much. "Come on," he said, wrapping as arm around the boy's thin shoulders. "Let's go see your father."

Leading the boy to the waiting helicopter, he yelled to the first 'chopper pilot. "Get her to the clinic, STAT."

* * *

Aboard Airwolf, Marella continued to monitor Hawke's progress with concern. She'd like to think the additional oxygen and iv fluids were helping, but she wasn't so sure. He didn't seem to be making much progress. If anything, he was barely holding his own.

Thoroughly, she checked him over, keeping Roper apprised of his status as she did so. He stayed on the radio with Red Star notifying the clinic and preparing for a team to meet them on the roof.

There didn't seem to be any broken bones, she thought in wonder - a miracle in and of itself, she realized having seen the car. The bruising was extensive, but that was to be expected in a car crash like that. Dehydration and shock seemed to be the major problems, she mused in frustration. She was treating the dehydration, but what was causing the shock? Surely, there was some underlying cause, besides just the dehydration, she thought.

Was it possible he had a collapsed lung, or a bruised one? Raking her hand through her hair in agitation, she acknowledged the possibility, but realized she had little way to currently check.

Watching his vitals displayed on Airwolf's monitors, she increased his oxygen flow. Hopefully that at least would help some, she thought in frustration.

"Five minutes out," Roper called, the words ringing in her headset. With trembling fingers, she began to get Hawke ready for the waiting medical team that'd be meeting them. Carefully, she laid the iv tubing on his chest, along with the iv bag, tucking the blanket in around him and preparing to reach for the oxygen mask as the team took him.

Gently Airwolf settled on the roof of the clinic at red Star, Roper opening the rear bay doors, dragging the helmet off and watching with worried eyes.

Swiftly the team rolled into position, efficiently loading Hawke onto the gurney, hooking the iv bag to the stand as they did so. A young red-headed nurse bagging him with oxygen as they started their way back inside led the way, the team loping alongside the stretcher calling out vitals as they did so.

The adrenaline ebbed away. The glass doors shut behind them and the medical team disappeared from sight. Wearily, Marella contemplated needing to close the bay doors to help roper get Airwolf back to her hanger, but she couldn't seem to summon the energy to move.

"Marella?" Roper called.

She didn't move.

"Marella?"

This time exhausted brown eyes flickered dully in his direction. "Hmm?" she muttered.

He sighed. "Never mind," he whispered, climbing over the seats. Gently he reached down and helped her to the engineers chair, handing her her helmet. She stared at it in bemusement as if unsure what to do with it.

Suddenly feeling exhausted himself, he climbed back into the pilot's chair sliding on String's helmet with weary mindlessness. Would he ever wear it again? he wondered, reaching for the collective and pulling up on it.

The rotors chopped the air, the sound as heavy and muted as his mood. Even the Lady seemed worried, he thought dourly wondering as he did so when he'd started thinking of her as "the Lady." Pushing the cyclic forward, the helicopter moved forward slowly, ponderously, nose down.

Watching from the ground below with Nicky, Archangel frowned. If the demeanor of the helicopter and her crew was such, it didn't bode well for Hawke.

He'd pushed the crews of the two Bell helicopters hard, landing only a few minutes behind Airwolf. The other helicopter was unloading even now at the helipad Airwolf had vacated. Now he waited, hand on the boy's shoulder for Marella.

The sleek black helicopter settled lightly to the tarmac. The rotors slowed even as the pilot's door opened and Roper stepped out. A blinding sense of déjà vu struck the battle-scarred spy as he remembered back to when a brash young test pilot by the name of Stringfellow Hawke had flown her, and stepped out on the tarmac in front of him at Red Star for the first time.

The downwash tousled the coffee-colored strands as he tossed the helmet inside and went around to help Marella out. Hawke had been right, he thought. Roper was a worthy heir, he just hoped the passing of the legacy wasn't today.

A tug at his sleeve drew his attention to the boy beside him. Nodding at the helicopter that had just landed, he indicated his desire to join them. Archangel nodded, lost in his own thoughts.

Nicky ran to Roper, flinging his arms out as he did so. The younger pilot caught him, hugging him hard to himself as he did so. The tanned fingers buried themselves in the boy's thick, dark hair as he held him.

Turning away from the emotional scene, Michael walked to meet Marella. The limp was pronounced today and he felt every one of his years. She reached out a slender hand as he enveloped her in a heartfelt embrace and they slowly made their way inside.

Setting the boy down at last, Roper left him to take off his flight suit. A way of delaying the inevitable, he supposed as he rifled for his civilian clothes, sliding worn jeans over lean hips. He flopped to the bench, his head in his hands as he faced the very real truth that he might have already lost the father he'd only begun to know.

Nicky leaned against the deadly, black helicopter, scrambling up to her winglet. A slender hand pressed against her sleek armored hide even as the tears began to fall, a child's hand only beginning to become that of a man. "We did it Angel," he whispered. "We found him. You found him."

Exhausted, he slumped against her, forgotten in the chaos of the day, and cried, the tears hot and heavy. Eventually, he slept.

* * *

The wolf ran, her coat as sleek as midnight, the eyes shining in the darkness. Hawke could feel the heat of her breath on his skin as she loped beside him. Night and life and death all in one.

Darkness tore at him, stealing his breath. Stumbling he fell, felt the pain rip through his body as he tried to push to his feet and failed. Struggling, he tried to gain his feet, knowing instinctively death awaited him if he did not.

* * *

"We're losing him!" A frantic voice called across the room, watching the lean body seize and convulse on the gurney. Scrambling hands caught him before he fell, forcing him back.

"Heartbeat's fast and irregular," a voice called out. "Respiration shallow."

"Bag him, now!" an authoritative voice commanded. "And get me paddles in case we need them. Do it now!" he roared.

Slamming the bare shoulder to the thin mattress, arm braced across it Doctor Darien Hansen shone a penlight in his patient's eyes accessing the pupils and reactivity. The body bowed beneath him again and he fought to keep him on the stretcher. "You will not die on me, Captain Hawke!" he snarled. "Do you hear me? Not on my watch!"

* * *

The wolf slammed to a halt beside him, paws scrabbling in the dirt as she turned and spun. Snarling, she bared her teeth, advancing, placing herself between the encroaching darkness and Hawke. The darkness reached out writhing tendrils, grasping and stretching. The black she-wolf crouched on her haunches growling, saliva dripping and waiting.

"No, Angel," he whispered, knowing the darkness that sought him would gladly take her as well. "No."

Her head turned, glowing amber eyes implacable, unafraid, and pure predator. Then she turned and lunged into the fray.

* * *

Paddles in hand, Darien Hansen called for clear as he poised above the body of Stringfellow Hawke. Charging came the call.

"Wait!" someone yelled. "We've got a heartbeat.

* * *

Horrendous snarling filled his ears, Angel's and something else he realized. Interspersed with pained yips and whimpers, also Angel's he knew somehow.

Pain like he'd never known clawed at him, dragging the breath from his lungs even as he shoved to his feet. Summoning the last of his strength, he threw himself into the fight, knowing he couldn't let her go down alone.

* * *

"Rallying," came the cry. "Pulse is steady, fast but steady 140. Respiration is evening out."

"Hand me that syringe," the doctor snapped, holding out an outstretched hand to the gaping nurse. Fumbling she complied.

Darien Hansen grinned, the light of battle bright in his eyes. "It would appear we've got a chance," he proclaimed triumphantly. "Come on, Hawke," he muttered, slamming the plunger on the syringe home. "Let's see what you're made of."

Together, he and his team went to work.


	11. Chapter 11

"How long's he been in there?" Archangel demanded impatiently, pacing the tile hall rosewood cane in hand.

"About ten minutes longer than the last time you asked me," Marella said giving him a tired smile. "They'll let us know when they know something, Michael."

"Seems like forever," he grimaced.

Knowing her boss's and husband's lack of patience, Marella agreed. He wasn't the only one who thought it seemed like forever.

Caitlin slumped in one of the hard plastic chairs across from her, feet and legs bandaged, hands not much better. She stroked a soothing hand through Amelia's hair, the little girl snuggled next to her. She'd taken a page out of Hawke's book checking herself out of doctor's care almost as fast as she'd been checked in, her red-headed temper flaring when they'd tried to keep her.

Roper paced the hall, a bundle of pent up nervous energy, Mike Rivers, the pilot's teammate and friend nearly as bad when he'd heard and joined them. Perhaps it'd be wide to keep them away from the coffee, she shuddered to think what the two of them would be like with a full dose of caffeine. A lot like Michael, she thought wryly, answering her own question as to what they'd be like.

For a man who claimed to be so hard-hearted and thick-skinned, he sure didn't look it today, Marella thought reaching a hand out to him. Looking up, he took it giving her a hesitant smile when she tugged him down beside her.

Tucking her hand into the crook of his arm he settled, realizing as his eyes met Caitlin's how precious this moment was. He held Marella against him, completely unconcerned for once about appearances and decorum.

Caitlin gave a sad smile, having to look away, her own pain too sharp to appreciate theirs.

Grimly, Saint John brooded at the end of the hall. Only recently out of a place like this, it was hard to find himself back, his brother fighting for the very life he'd only so recently regained. Uneasily, he shifted his rangy frame in the chair struggling for patience - peace was a lost cause. Scrubbing tired fingers over his face, he waited.

Impatient steps echoed down the hall. A man in green scrubs appeared, pulling a mask wearily from his face. He stopped, eyeing the waiting room for a familiar face and finding only Archangel. Tiredly he shrugged, "Captain Hawke's family?" he asked, figuring whoever else was there wouldn't care, to heck with regs.

Every foot in the room hit the floor, rising to meet him. Bushy eyebrows shot up in surprise. Surely this wasn't the family of the Stringfellow Hawke he knew? There'd only been Dominic Santini then, surrogate father of perhaps the most solitary soul he'd ever known.

"Stringfellow Hawke's family?" he asked frowning.

Titan-haired Caitlin stepped forward, Amelia clinging to her hand. Serious blue-green eyes met his. "I'm Hawke's wife," she murmured, everyone else is family. You can say what you have to say."

Surprised, the doctor glanced around, finding himself astonishingly glad for the young pilot he'd known who'd bailed him out in 'Nam and again later in the early days of the Airwolf project with Dr. Moffet. Evidently twelve years had wrought a lot of changes, mostly for the better.

"Well," he said, suddenly unsure where to begin with this crowd, mentally he'd prepared for the gregarious Santini he'd known, even the possibility there'd be no one, if Santini were gone.

"Just tell us where we stand," Caitlin whispered, placing a hand on his arm. "How is he?"

Smiling for the first time in what seemed like hours, Hansen looked at her. "He's in recovery now. His condition is fair at best. He was suffering from a simple pneumothorax, a partially collapsed lung," he corrected himself, at the worried glances that shot around the room. "That compiled with dehydration and a concussion pushed him over into the shock that landed him here." He's got a lot of bruises and he's going to be sore as all get out for a couple days, but baring any unforeseen complications he should make a good recovery."

The roar of excitement echoed through the room, Roper and Mike slapping congratulatory hands. Michael and Marella embracing happily, Caitlin simply looking relieved and Saint John raising a triumphant fist in the air.

The doctor grinned. And others accused him of being too exuberant and brash, he thought. He had nothing evidently on Hawke's family. They must make for some interesting get togethers, he mused wryly, turning to go.

A soft hand on his arm stopped him. "When can I see him?" the titan-haired beauty who'd introduced herself as Hawke's wife asked.

"Give me some time to get him settled in his room," he said, patting her hand comfortingly. "I'll send someone to get you."

The serious-eyed woman nodded.

"It may be a while," he felt compelled to warn.

"That's okay," she murmured. "I'll wait as long as it takes."

* * *

Slowly, Stringfellow Hawke opened sapphire blue eyes wincing at the brightness of the room. Caitlin dozed in the chair beside him, her hand on his. Carefully, he wrapped his fingers around hers.

Glancing 'round the room carefully - any quick movement made things shift alarmingly and his head pound worse if it were possible - his eyes met another pair of bright blue ones.

"Daddy!" Amelia exclaimed happily.

"Sh -hh," he whispered, holding his finger in front of his lips. "Mommy's sleeping."

Grinning the little girl nodded, dropping out of her chair and padding silently over to where he lay. Hanging on the bed rail, she whispered, "I missed you," as she pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek.

Dark eyebrows quirked as he gave her a half-grin. "I missed you too, sunshine," he whispered painfully. Easing back on the pillows, he drew an uneasy breath. "Where's your brother?" he asked quietly.

Amelia shrugged, looking content to return to her chair.

" 'Melia," he whispered, straining to catch her attention.

"Yes, Daddy?"

"Where's Roper? Is he outside?"

"Waiting," she answered.

He nodded, not surprised. "Can you find him and not get lost?"

"Sure," she grinned, her eyes lighting up. Skipping, she went to the door, waving as she opened it silently.

Hawke twitched his fingers in response, collapsing against the pillow. Probably the only part of him that didn't hurt, he thought ruefully. Still, he guessed he couldn't complain, considering he really hadn't thought he'd still be here when remembered the suffocating pain when he'd been trapped in the car.

Soft-soled shoes thudded softly in the doorway. Hawke silently placed a finger to his lips motioning to Cait asleep beside him.

Shaking his head, Roper grinned as he walked around the bed. "String," he greeted him, grasping his shoulder carefully. "It's good to have you back. You gave us quite a scare there for awhile."

"Good to be back," Hawke whispered painfully. "Sorry about the other," he said. "I take it you had something to do with that?"

The younger pilot inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Maybe. Nicky had a lot more."

"Nicky?" Hawke asked in surprise. "What'd he do?"

"If he hadn't pushed when he did, we'd have never found you in time. We still almost didn't."

His forehead creasing, Hawke frowned. "What do you mean?"

Shoving his hands in his jeans pockets, Roper contemplated what to say. He knew it sounded crazy, but it'd be nice to have somebody else confirm he wasn't insane. With a sigh, he turned around.

Serious blue eyes met Hawke's. "You know that black battleship with rotors, you fly?"

Sharp blue eyes watched him as the older pilot nodded just barely, "Yeah."

"You know he dreams about it. Acts like it's got a soul of it's own."

"He's a child," Hawke whispered uneasily, his own dream of the wolf coming back to him.

"I'm aware of that," Roper snapped, raking a hand through his hair. "These dreams are more than that Hawke and you know it. He says Angel told him where to find you- and that's exactly where we found you. The freaky thing is, I'm starting to believe him." Shrugging, Roper shoved his hands back in his pockets. "Look," he said, "Do with it what you want. I'm just telling you what I know." He paced to the door, turning to look over his shoulder at Hawke. "Glad to have you back, man." He started to go.

"Roper," Hawke called. "Wait."

The younger man turned back defensively.

"I know he dreams about her. So have I," Hawke said harshly. "I can't explain it. I'm not even sure I want to try." He swallowed. "You know Dom always said she had feelings, that's why he referred to her as the Lady. Academically I know it's just a machine, but…"

"So it's not just me," Roper sighed on a relieved breath.

"No," Hawke retorted. "It's all of us - crazy as loons."

At that, Roper laughed out loud. "Yeah, I guess so," he agreed.

String chuckled as well, pressing his hand against his ribs in pain. Finally he was able to speak again. "Speaking of Nicky," he asked, "where is he?"

Roper frowned immediately. "Oh no, Hawke! He's not in the waiting room, I never realized it! I just assumed…" Agitatedly, he rose to his feet. "I'll go find him."

String shook his head. "Help me up," he rasped.

Roper stopped what he was doing and reached for Hawke's arm, thinking he wanted help up in the bed, his hand on the button to raise the head of the mattress.

To his consternation, Hawke shoved off the blankets, pulling up painfully with his arm.

"Uh, String…" Roper began, worry apparent in his eyes, as his father reached for his robe.

"Yeah?" Hawke asked, raising an eyebrow at him while he gingerly slid the robe on.

"I really don't think this is a good idea."

"Then it's a really good thing I didn't ask you," Hawke shot back in a whispered retort, the wicked gleam in his eyes belying his words. His jaw still clenched in pain though.

"Hawke," Roper tried again. "I'll find him, I promise," the words were desperate now.

Hawke leveled an intense blue glare on him. "Be careful what you promise, Roper. It has a way of coming back to bite you."

"Cait'll be furious!" he hissed.

Fondly, Hawke glanced at his wife. "Yeah," he said with a grin. "She will." He turned back to his son, "Get me the wheelchair and be quiet about it, 'cause she'll have your head if she catches you."

Roper groaned, and tried one last time. "Hawke, you almost died. This is a bad idea. I'll go find Nicky for you."

String looked at him soberly for a minute, the strain showing in his face. "You're right," he said with a sigh.

The younger man relaxed, relieved he'd finally gotten through to Hawke. His stubbornness was legendary and he'd really thought he was going to lose the argument for a minute there.

"But," Hawke continued, "I could die tomorrow. None of us are promised forever. Besides, I owe a certain Lady my thanks and I have a feeling I'll find Nicky keeping her company. So are you coming or do I have to drag myself down there?"

Roper looked at him in horror, realization dawning in his eyes. He'd lost the battle, he thought in stunned disbelief. Lost it and not even realized it 'til it was over. Raking his hand over his face, he sighed, even as he gave Hawke his arm.

* * *

Taking the elevator, String and Roper silently made their way down to the hangers where Airwolf sat. Stepping out into the semi-darkness, Roper spotted the helicopter. "Okay, she's there," he muttered. "So where's Nicky?"

Hawke merely raised a finger pointing to where the boy huddled against her sleek, armored hide. "There," he murmured, the dream suddenly slamming into him with stunning clarity.

Pushing the wheelchair over, Roper paused near the helicopter, reaching up for the sleeping youngster. "Nicky," he whispered, trying not to startle the boy. "Nick, it's time to wake up."

Uncoiling, the boy awoke, his gaze sharp, wary and alert. "Roper?" he queried, and then his gaze landed on his father.

"Dad!" he yelled, flinging himself off Airwolf's winglet and into Hawke's arms. Clinging, Hawke hugged him back, both very aware of the gift they'd been given.

The two remained locked that way a long time, Roper leaning against Airwolf. Finally, String whispered something to the boy and Nicky pushed the wheelchair closer to the deadly black helicopter and his oldest son.

Pushing out of the chair, String leaned heavily on Nicky's shoulder even as Roper reached for him, helping him to his feet. His arm over Roper's shoulder and Nicky's arm wrapped around his lean hips, String hesitatingly took the remaining steps to carry him over to Airwolf. Wavering he came to a stop next to her, sliding his hand fondly across the shiny, black armor-plated wing, before he looked at his two sons. Swallowing hard, he whispered, "I owe all of you my life. Thank you."


	12. Chapter 12

"What do you mean he's gone?" Cait yelled, launching on the nurse who'd had the poor fortune to wake her to ask where Hawke was.

Hearing the commotion, Saint John rushed into the room, his eyes widening at the empty bed, Mike on his heels. "Oh man," Rivers groaned, "I don't believe this!"

It was into this scene, Roper and Nicky walked pushing Hawke in his wheelchair.

"I take it we arrived at a bad time?" Hawke whispered dryly.

"Stringfellow Hawke," Caitlin ranted, "Have you lost your ever-loving' mind?"

"Probably," he groaned, struggling to push out of the wheelchair. Mike rushed to help Roper get him up and ease him back into the bed, leaning slowly against the pillows.

"What is going on here?" Darien Hansen thundered, looking up from his charts at the pandemonium in the room, as he walked in. "Out!" he ordered, glowering at all of them. "Out now!"

"But…" Caitlin protested.

"I said out, Mrs. Hawke!" he said still glowering. "Have a seat outside, and if I deem my patient is up to it, I may let you come back in one at a time to visit later."

Blue-green eyes narrowed, but she went without another word.

Hansen looked at Hawke and then his charts, rubbing his chin. With a huff, he heaved them onto the bed pulling up a chair beside it.

"Well, I suppose it's good to see some things never change," Hansen remarked. "You still attract trouble like a lightening pole I see."

Hawke's dark blue eyes narrowed, searching. Recognition dawned. "It is you," String grinned, reaching to shake the others hand.

Deftly, Hansen caught his hand and flipped it to take his pulse. "120?" He raised a bushy eyebrow at Hawke. "I threw the wrong ones out, didn't I?"

Hawke had the grace to look abashed.

"Look String," Hansen sighed, "You can do what you want on your time, but in here you do what I tell you. You need to stay in bed - we almost lost you yesterday. I don't know if you realize how close you came."

Hawke glanced away his jaw tight, not saying anything.

"Still stubborn as ever, I see," Hansen grumbled, rising from the chair. Letting out an audible breath, he turned to leave the room. He paused, wondering whether to say it. "I like your family Hawke. You've done well. Don't be in too big a hurry to leave them."

His hand was on the doorknob when Hawke spoke. "Darien?"

"Yeah?" the other paused, not looking back.

"Thanks. For everything. I'll keep it under advisement."

"You do that Hawke," he said grinning as he walked out. Pushing the door open, Darien shook his head. "You may go in, Mrs. Hawke," he said, his voice echoing down the hall even as he walked away.

Caitlin walked in, her eyes amused.

"What?" String questioned, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Got caught, huh?" she asked unsympathetically.

He scowled.

"Oh, admit it String," she teased. "You got caught."

"Fine," he grumbled, before his lips quirked despite his best efforts otherwise. "I got caught."

"Just wanted to hear you admit it," Caitlin grinned.

She sat down next to him on the bed, reaching for his hand. "I'm glad you're okay," she whispered.

"Me too," he agreed looking into her eyes.

"You scared me, you know," she murmured her eyes dropping to the blanket in front of her. "I thought I'd lost you this time."

"I know," he admitted gruffly. "I thought I'd lost me too. I'm sorry."

"Don't do it again," she whispered fiercely, hanging onto his hand. Meeting his eyes, she leaned forward.

"Believe me, I'll try to avoid it," he rejoined, brushing her lips with his. "Just promise me one thing, Cait."

"What?" she asked, puzzled.

"The next time you decide to have snails and crackers, leave me out of it."

"Oooh, Stringfellow Hawke," she ranted. "I oughta …"

"Just teasing, Cait," he gasped, holding his ribs gingerly. "Just teasing."

Cupping his cheek in her palm, she leaned forward and kissed him anyway.


End file.
